[Music: Piotr Wiwczarek, Lyric: Pawel Wasilewski]

I tasted the fever of Your existence
Seems like cold grain to my mouth
I stand aside, I stay away
Transmuting my quicksilver blood

KIA - that I may see
ZOS - that I may touch
Insipid are the describing words
The self needs no vulgar praise

This worship has no supplications
My rite is to live and do
Things naked, pure, of honest l___
The throbbing vortex feeds on it all

Sleep is the best of possible prayers
The winged eyes are blessed to see
Downtrodden deception of every torment
Transpierced hymens my l___ adores

Many images yet one raw flesh
Animal steps I love to tread
An ideal point where Time is s___e
Memory giant sores this journey must heal

Lady of Mourning and her monsters
Lay down the scythes for here I come
Joyful and priapic my baby soul
A new-born one, ten million years old

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